Superman's Race
by Scottenkainen
Summary: It's October of 1938. Superman is the world's first and only superhuman vigilante, dispensing justice to Cleveland, Ohio. When he tries to help a man in need, it leads to a race Superman may not be able to win.


Oct. 17, 1938. Monday evening.

Superman was racing across rooftops, trying to cross from one end of Cleveland to the other, not because he was chasing someone, but just to blow off steam. It had been over two weeks since Germany occupied Czechoslovakia and the world was doing nothing. It was so hard to sit back and do nothing, so hard when a "Superman" could do so much to end war. And yet, Superman was a U.S. citizen – or at least thought of himself as one, even though he never found out who his real parents were after all these years. Did even a "Superman" dare violate international treaties and, as an American citizen, declare war on Germany…?

In the middle of his musings, Superman paused over the "Little Italy" neighborhood of Cleveland. He had just landed next to Alta House, the historic settlement house. He stopped here, because he heard a man sobbing from beside the house. Sure enough, a well-dressed man was sitting on a bench by the property, sobbing on his sleeve with his head resting on his arms. Superman walked right up to the man unnoticed, appraised the situation, and decided to act.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Superman asked.

The crying man was startled and almost jumped off the bench. He looked over Superman, thinking he was being confronted by a refugee from a costume party, and then looked around for others. "Go away!" he said at last.

"All right," Superman said, "but first maybe we should move you someplace more private if you can't act more like a man." With that, Superman lifted the bench, with the man still on it, with one hand and carried them both closer to the back of the building, behind a tree.

"How – how did you do that?" the man asked.

"I can do lots of things, maybe even solve your problem if you tell me what it is," Superman responded.

"I – my name is Roger Rupp," the man said, sliding off the bench on shaky legs. "I'm on the board of directors for Alta House…or still am for now. There's been an accounting error and we're over our budget."

"So? Organize a fund raiser."

"There's no time. We're being audited in three days and we're almost $1,000 short."

"That's disgraceful!" Superman said angrily. "Who is responsible for such sloppy bookkeeping and endangering such an important organization?"

"…I am," Rupp said at last, staring at his shoes.

"I despise carelessness," Superman said grimly, "but I can respect honesty." Superman relaxed his mood. "And doesn't everyone deserve a second chance, just like Alta House does for immigrants and disadvantaged children?"

"You shame me," Rupp said.

"Oh, I won't deny that," Superman countered, "but I won't see your organization suffer. Alta House will get that $1,000."

Before Rupp could thank him, Superman was leaping away.

Once back at his apartment, Superman cast off his costume and changed into the pajamas of Clark Kent. As he did so, he considered how best to raise the money for Alta House. He was, after all, a not entirely well paid reporter for a local newspaper. Yet he was, above all else, optimistic. An opportunity would present itself, he assured himself as he settled down with a good book.

The next day, an opportunity presented itself. At least it was an opportunity for part of the money. Kent glanced over Lois Lane's shoulder at her desk and saw her typing a piece about the 37th annual race of the Cleveland Automobile Club.

"Hmm…interesting, Lois," Kent said.

"My shoulder or what you're reading over it?" Lane asked icily.

"The race. I've always meant to go see that. Is there a prize for the winner?"

Lane stopped typing with a sigh. Until she got rid of Kent, there would be no getting this done. "Yes, Kent, this year they're offering a $370 prize. I daresay you won't be trying for it, since you don't drive."

"Oh, you never know, Lois. Someday I just might enter a race like that…"

Lane envisioned him driving into a ditch and calling out for help and smiled all the way through the rest of her article.

At the same time, across town, another woman was thinking poorly of a man.

"Roger Rupp, you are awful!" his girlfriend said.

"But, Valerie, the problem is solved! Superman is going to help me! Honest!"

"That's precisely what I mean, Roger. A real man solves his own problems. That's not what you did at all."

"But—"

"No buts, Roger. Oh, I know what you do, what you do for the community, is important, but – oh, sometimes I just wish you were more…rugged."

"I can be rugged, Valerie. Valerie, wait! Don't…go…" But she did, and Roger was left all alone to consider how quickly his life was crumbling around him and that maybe Superman wouldn't be able to fix everything after all.

When Superman appeared at the Glenville Race Track, he was greeted with amazement by the motorists there. What had amazed them was not his fanciful, circus-like costume, but the fact that he had just landed from out of a clear, blue sky.

"Are you Superman?" one of them asked as he wiped oil off his hands onto a rag. Another man beside him stared into the sky to watch for more falling people, and two others just stood there gawking.

"I am. Are you gentlemen with the Cleveland Automobile Club holding the race this Thursday?"

"We are," said the boldest of the four men again. "We're hoping for a strong turnout."

"Perhaps I can help," Superman suggested. "You see, I'd like to participate."

"You race?"

"On occasion, but not with the aid of an automobile. You see, I'd like to race you on foot."

Two of the racers laughed, thinking it a joke. Once they saw no one else was laughing, one of them asked, "You're not joking, are you?"

"That could be quite a draw for us," the first man said. "It would make for some nice last-minute publicity…"

"I ask only one thing in addition to letting me participate on foot," Superman said. "I want you to sweeten the pot."

"Raise the stakes?" asked a third man. "We can't possibly raise it with so little time remaining…"

"Maybe we could," countered the first man. "But how much did you have in mind?"

"One thousand dollars."

"That's absurd!"

"I'll guarantee you front page headlines in time for the race."

It was a cool, breezy day on the day of the race. It had looked like it would rain earlier, but nothing came of that. Despite the earlier threat of rain, a record 4,000 spectators still turned out for the event. The old Roadside Club was re-opened by the management of the race track to allow for more seating. Many people strained to catch a glimpse of Superman, for while everyone had heard of Superman by now, most people had never seen him. Many people in the crowd were skeptical, even upon seeing him, and some even heckled him as a phony.

Superman had been concerned about appearing in public before so many people. He was, after all, trying to maintain a double life, and while it was working so far, it would only take one noisy person recognizing Superman for Clark Kent to ruin it for him. For the first time, Superman had added to his "uniform," putting on a red full-face mask that covered his head and neck and tucked into the collar of his shirt. Only his eyes showed. He almost immediately regretted the mask, feeling uncomfortable with it, and thought he would probably not wear one again.

The news of the $1,000 cash prize (that made headlines two days in a row in the Daily Star) had attracted more last-minute entrants than just Superman. Fifteen cars – mostly Bakers, Wintons, and custom racing cars – were competing in the race. The cars were idling now in their positions, waiting for the checkered flag to wave. Starting in last position (for he had graciously volunteered to do so), was Superman, crouching in sprinting position. Finally, the checkered flag waved and fifteen race cars roared into motion! Superman stood up from his sprinting position and began to just run – but what a run! His legs were a blur of motion as he sped down the raceway, not only keeping up with the cars, but slowly gaining on them!

The crowd went crazy with cheers and applause, some standing up and whooping and hollering. Others were shocked to see such an inhuman display of raw power and speed and sat silently agape. Others believed this was still somehow a trick and that Superman was still phony…though their heckling grew quieter and quieter.

In the first few laps, early leaders were already outstripping the rest, but Superman was right up there pacing the number two car. Motor enthusiasts in the audience were aware that Superman was running at over 80 miles per hour, but what they couldn't see was that Superman was sandbagging – he wasn't even working up a sweat! As they entered the tenth lap, Superman toyed with the drivers, occasionally backing off as far back as fourth place, just to give the audience a good show. As they entered the twentieth lap, with only five left to go, Superman made more of an effort again and was began gaining on first place.

It was in the second turn of the twenty-third lap that the eighth place car had a brake fade and spun out. The driver tried to regain control of the car, but couldn't. The car flipped over, rolled into the wall, and started burning!

Superman knew what had happened as soon as he heard the screech of tires. He turned his head back and saw the accident. There was no way he could keep going forward now. The fastest route to the accident was back the way he came, so he skidded to an abrupt stop. The sudden reversal made the steel soles of his boots buckle. He dodged and weaved around race cars coming his way as he made it back to the car on fire.

Superman ripped the driver's side door off its hinges and examined the driver as quickly as he could. The man was unconscious and apparently not breathing, though with no outside signs of bleeding. It felt a little toasty warm in the car, so Superman assumed it was unbearably hot for an ordinary man. Superman scooped up the man in his arms as gently as if he were cradling an infant, and made a short hop to the nearest pit stop. Superman found a stretcher and laid the driver down on it just as he noticed out of the corner of his eye the other racers ending the 24th lap and starting the final lap. It was a quandary for Superman, who was unaccustomed to finding accident victims in this condition. He did not trust his control over his own super-strength enough to offer the man either mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or chest compressions – too much strength could kill him – and there was no time to practice now. An emergency team, with their slower reflexes, was finally reaching the scene and Superman snatched a blanket from them to wrap around his patient, to protect him from the sudden temperature change. Superman could only watch, powerless, while someone with medical training took over the patient. And all the while, the soon-to-be-winning car was closing on the second half of the last lap.

"Go on," someone said to Superman. "We have this under control."

That was all Superman was waiting to hear. He bolted from the pit stop and rapidly picked up speed. He gained on the other cars until they seemed to be crawling at a snail's pace. He passed them all and finished his 24th lap. Then, running even faster, he gained on them again as he worked on his last lap. He whizzed past car after car until only one car was left – but that car was a fraction of a second from crossing the finish line!

The checkered flag waved. The crowd, already frenzied by the excitement, gave such a cheer that it deafened like thunder. Some were aware of the irony of it – a reversal of the John Henry legend. Instead of rooting for the man versus the machine, they had cheered on the machine because the man was too …unnatural. And the machine had won!

Roger Rupp, who had entered the race in order to try for the prize and to impress his girlfriend, pulled off his helmet and climbed slowly out of the race car. His legs felt like jelly and he had trouble standing, yet quickly found help being offered to him. His girlfriend, Valerie, was hugging him and showering him with kisses. Beside him, Superman was holding and shaking his hand.

The reporters at the race were torn – half wanted an interview with the surprise winner and half wanted an interview with the mysterious, superhuman vigilante who had just done the impossible in front of thousands of witnesses. Amongst the latter group, Superman spied Lois running towards him. Sensing it was time to go, Superman leapt away and was soon lost from view. Most of the reporters realized they had lost that story and turned their attention to Rupp. No one, in all the excitement, had noticed that Superman still wasn't breathing hard. He had spied Rupp in the drivers seat upon passing him and thrown the race.


End file.
